Divine Retribution III
by MJ Lee


Alone. You're not alone, Alex."

By some diabolical twist of fate Skinner echoed Tatya's words. That was the moment Krycek finally gave up the uneven fight and closed his eyes tightly. His chest heaved with dry sobs as he fought for control.

He had not cried when Tatya died in childbirth, her body too narrow for the baby that tore it's way out of her. He had not cried when Bill Mulder and a succession of men raped and beat his body and twisted his soul. He had never shed a tear over the men he had killed so efficiently at his masters' orders.

Distantly he heard Skinner's deep voice saying quietly, "Let go, Alex."

Shaking his head violently in negation, every muscle in his body tensed against memories that would have broken any other man.

A single tear slid down his face and fell on Skinner's chest.

In the arms of a man he didn't trust, who hated him, he cried without tears for his past, for the boy he had been and for the man he was.

He mourned without words what that man had been forced to do in the name of survival as the memory of last night filled him. He had closed his eyes while Murphy grunted and thrust into his body and wondered if the freedom he had fought so hard for had all been a illusion, a fantasy and he was still owned by men without humanity or mercy.

Once he managed to gather himself together again, Krycek's heart suddenly began to pound heavily, as he realized he had just handed himself to Skinner on a plate. He wondered what price this man, his enemy, would ask for this moment of weakness.

Pulling away slightly, he said dryly, striving for a casual tone. "Guess I've really blown the image as a cold-blooded killer, huh?"

Skinner chuckled as he firmly pulled Krycek back again. "Everyone, even assassins are allowed to show their emotion once in a while."

A long thoughtful look through long dark lashes, "Does that include ex-Marine FBI AD's?"

Skinner smiled, shifting lightly, pulling Krycek even tighter against him. "Even them," he agreed solemnly.

They lay in silence for a long while, and then Krycek whispered into the darkness, "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Skinner's deep voice was very soft.

###

"Sir, have you...?" Mulder's voice trailed away and he stared in open-mouth shock at the sight of the dark head resting on one broad shoulder. "This is not happening," he said calmly. "This is fucking not happening."

"Mulder—" Skinner growled a warning as he began to sit up, moving away.

Krycek chose that moment to open his eyes and stretch lazily. "Good morning."

Suddenly his gaze fell on the frozen figure framed by the door. "Oh shit," he said softly.

A slam of the door was his answer. Krycek stared at the closed door with a rueful smile. "I better go after him," he said, shaking his head at, Skinner's unspoken protest. "No, it's my problem, Skinner, not yours." He freed himself from the brawny arms that still held him.

He stood for a moment looking down at the big man in the bed, eyes unreadable. In the light of the day it was too easy to remember that they had once been enemies. "Well, I guess I'll see you around," he murmured a little uncomfortably.

Skinner rose and stretched slowly, "Oh I think you can rather count on it, since I'm the one making breakfast." He waited until the thinned lips had relaxed fractionally into a smile, and then continued blandly, "it's not every day you'll have breakfast cooked by an FBI AD, better make the most of it."

Krycek had to force himself to stillness when a heavy hand settled on his shoulder. "Alex, I'm not going to forget about last night, and neither will you." Skinner looked at him, something dangerous suddenly crossing the austere lines of his face and glimmered in dark eyes.

Guarded green eyes gave him back look for look. "I won't." A brief hesitation and then Krycek said distantly, "You said I wouldn't like the way you played. Is that what this is?" He knew only too well that after last night Skinner had him by the throat. The only question was what the older man would do with his advantage.

Skinner shook his head. "No games, Alex." He gave the younger man a level look. "I fight fair and I never bring a fight into the bedroom." He paused, "do you understand what I'm saying?"

Krycek nodded jerkily. "I understand."

"Good," Skinner said steadily. "I just wanted to make that clear. Now go talk to Mulder, I'm going to see if there is anything beside saturated fats in the refrigerator." He shook his head, "I tried to tell them about nutrition, and Frohike just looked at me and said, and I quote 'oh you mean the four food-groups, fat, sugar, carbs and food coloring?'"

Krycek was actually smiling when he closed the door and went to find Mulder.

He finally found the other man at the back of the house, where the Gunmen had stored whatever was too bulky to fit into their temporary home. Mulder was leaning against a satellite dish, staring blindly into the distance.

"I'm sorry you had to see that..."

Fox Mulder would have known that husky voice anywhere although he didn't acknowledge it in any way, except to tense a little.

Krycek came up by his side. "But I'm not sorry about anything else," he said coolly.

Mulder turned and pinned him with a look. "No, I guess you don't know much about fidelity and trust," he said and heard the blunt unspoken accusation in the words.

A faint, ironic smile, "True enough." He leaned on the railing. "He... he made me feel safe, Mulder. Safe and warm," Krycek finally said softly, almost hesitantly. "Last night, nothing happened. We talked," there was a note of wonder in his voice. "We just talked," he repeated.

Mulder clenched his hands to keep from reaching out, from shaking the other man, to imprint once again that Alex was his. He controlled the impulse and said, a little too evenly, "Talk to me Alex. Tell me what's wrong."

Krycek smiled without humor. "There's nothing wrong, except that you're changing the rules. Look, we had a bargain, you helped with the Consortium and in return you could fuck me. That's all it was."

This time there was no hiding the shock. "Is that really what you think we have?!"

A long level look. "Yes."

"I... I thought we were falling in love," Mulder said harshly.

Krycek laughed shortly. "Love never entered into it. Christ, Mulder, how the hell could you ever think it did?" There was geniuine surprise in his voice. He almost reminded Mulder of the past, he almost asked the other man if he remembered their last meeting in a hotel room and what he had said then.

It was only shock that kept Mulder upright. For the past day he had let himself hope. He had believed that Alex had finally let go of the past.

He stared at Krycek, eyes blind and shocked. "I love you," he whispered.

A tired, cynical smile twisted the beautiful mouth he had kissed only yesterday. "I told you before, don't mistake sex for love." Krycek turned away.

"Wait!" He could feel Alex slip away between his fingers, all his dreams and hopes turning to ashes and dust in his hands, and so he allowed pride, and anger, to rule him. "I want you out of our room tonight," he said coldly, "If you've got the hots for Skinner so badly, go crawl into his bed."

A shadow of regret was followed swiftly by something close to relief. Krycek started to say something, then changed his mind, and just said quietly, "I'll move my stuff out."

He walked away without another word.

###

It was the start of an extremely uncomfortable day. Understanding the necessity for laying low in case anyone in the Consortium realized what they'd done, Skinner, Mulder and Krycek were all cooped up in their temporary home. The Gunmen after one look at Mulder's face had made themselves scarce. Krycek solved it by finding a book and burying his nose in it. Skinner growing tired of Mulder's glower went outside and continued working on the perimeter defenses he'd begun while Mulder and Krycek were undercover. He was just laying the last wires when Mulder walked out. Skinner took one look and knew that the younger man was spoiling for a fight.

Dressed in jeans, and a T-shirt, with his hands smudged. Skinner gave his agent a curt nod, but said nothing, patiently waiting for Mulder to get it off his chest not pausing in what he was doing. "Don't step there," he ordered and Mulder froze, "not unless you want to lose a leg."

"You stole Alex from me." Oh great, Mulder thought with a wince. I sound like a petulant child.

Skinner, from his sudden sharp look, apparently agreed. "I did not steal anything, Mulder. Alex is not someone's to steal."

"I know that, sir," but deep inside there was a stubborn core, a primeval instinct that shouted his ownership. "But we were, we are" he corrected himself, "involved and still you..." no he couldn't say the words. He couldn't accuse his superior of fucking his lover. "You went behind my back."

Reaching out to take a screwdriver, Skinner started loosening a screw gently removing the cover and pulling the wire through it. "Wrong, Mulder, no one is trying to go behind your back or lie to you. Last night Krycek needed to talk, and I was there." He looked up, the sun reflecting off his glasses, but still he looked hard, dangerous. "I think the question you have to ask yourself is why Krycek felt the need to come to me."

"Trust me, sir," Mulder said between gritted teeth, "I'm going to ask him that myself."

Grunting softly with effort, Skinner finally managed to remove a second stubborn bolt, "I'm not going to lie to you, yeah, I'm attracted to Alex," he made the admission calmly, as though it meant little, instead of rocking Mulder's world. "But I'm not about to get into some idiotic pissing contest with you. If anything happens, then it will be out in the open, that's the only thing I can promise you."

"You... you, want Alex Krycek?" Mulder croaked.

Skinner didn't even bother looking at him, "Yes."

###

Skinner was feeling decidedly out of sorts when he finally returned inside. It had been too much to ask that Mulder would have simply left it alone. Instead he'd spent a wearisome hour as Mulder attempted to argue him into submission. It too closely resembled all those 302 battles, all the endless demands and accusations, and finally he'd just walked away, leaving a frustrated Mulder behind. Now, an incipient headache threatened and he badly wanted some quiet and solitude. Instead when he opened his bedroom door it was to find Alex Krycek whirling around looking guilty, a tote bag in his hand.

"Do I want to know what you're doing here?" Skinner growled, looking and sounding the gruff AD.

A hesitant grin turned the corner of Krycek's lips. "Umm, Mulder threw me out and I decided to follow his advice."

Skinner almost winced knowing what said advice probably entailed. "Are you sure it's what you want?"

Krycek shrugged casually, "It's either that or the sofa in the living room and that would result in permanent back damage I suspect."

Despite the apparent nonchalance, Skinner noticed a wary look in the moss-green eyes.

Instead of making an answering quip, Skinner just said calmly, "Alex, you're more than welcome to stay here, you know that." He paused and waited until Krycek looked at him before adding quietly, "and sleeping in the same bed is all we will do. Do you understand me?"

Krycek shook his head, a strange light in his eyes, "I think I got that yesterday."

At dinner that night, the three gunmen were too intimidated by Skinner's glare to do anything but gape when Skinner stretched and told everyone a curt good-night, and Krycek immediately stood up and followed him.

As one, three heads turned to look at Mulder who stared fixedly at the table wondering in a distant, abstract fashion if it was possible to die from jealousy. Things were not helped by the knowledge that he had only himself to blame.

In the tiny bedroom Skinner turned to Krycek, a smile in his deep voice. "Did you see Frohike? I thought his eyes would bug out."

Krycek smiled, although the tenseness didn't quite leave his body. "I never thought they'd be so prudish."

Skinner stretched leisurely, working at the kinks in his back. "They're not. I think it's more that they're worried about Mulder. He's their friend you know."

Krycek turned away, hunching his shoulder. "I know," his voice suddenly a little cooler.

"Alex..."

He almost flinched, cursing himself for being so damn jumpy. But he hadn't realized how close Skinner was behind him.

"Shhh..." Skinner said quietly, "come on, let's go to bed, we're both tired."

Despite everything, Krycek couldn't help tensing a little as the older man gently steered him towards the bed.

All the AD did was to take off his glasses, lie down and close his eyes.

Krycek stood looking down at him until Skinner asked lazily, without opening his eyes, "Are you going to stand there all night?"

Then he actually smiled a little pulling off his jeans and shirt and slid into bed next to Skinner. He wasn't sure why he was so nervous. It wasn't as if this was anything new or as if Skinner hadn't already had the chance to fuck him. Forcing himself to relax, Krycek suddenly wondered if the reason he was so tense was that he didn't want Skinner to be proven a liar.

When he felt the first soft puff of air against his back he almost jumped again, but instead he breathed evenly, body loose and relaxed as he waited for Skinner to reach for him. However, instead of spooning up against his back, the other man moved back giving him plenty of room.

"Good night," Skinner murmured and very soon Krycek heard soft rhythmic snores.

Shaking his head, thoroughly confused, Krycek drifted off to sleep.

In the morning Skinner woke first. Opening his eyes he came instantly awake, a legacy from his years in the army. He shifted and the mattress dipped under his weight as he turned and saw Krycek still asleep. Most people looked younger, innocent, when sleeping, their faces relaxed, cares smoothed out. Alex Krycek looked the same, wary, guarded, giving nothing away. He also, Skinner noticed, kept his distance even in sleep, curled up as far away as possible. Somehow it did not surprise that Krycek wasn't a cuddler.

Walter Skinner smiled a little wryly at the strange whims of fate. There had been a time when he'd wanted nothing so much as to kill the man sharing his bed. Unfortunately, there had also never been a time when he hadn't also wanted to push Krycek up against the nearest wall and fuck him through it.

AD Skinner had taken one look at the young, puppyish agent assigned to Mulder, bursting with enthusiasm and naiveté and a gracefulness that even his terrible clothes and strange hair couldn't hide, and he had known that this was someone he could never have. So he had contented himself with keeping what he convinced himself was a avuncular eye, on the odd pairing. He had seen Mulder's instant, and unconscious, attraction but Alex Krycek for all his apparent openness and ingenuity was far harder to read. Skinner suddenly smiled grimly, Mulder had not been the only feeling betrayed when Krycek was revealed as a traitor.

Much later, after reading Alex Krycek's true file, he had thought bitterly that at least he'd been set up by a pro. The traitor was good, very, very good at what he did. Skinner had read and hated his own stupidity and the young man who had fooled him with such ease and a pair of smiling green eyes.

His morning ruminations were interrupted at that point as Krycek woke. Like Skinner he moved instantly from sleep to consciousness. Long dark lashes blinked once as his body tensed, and then relaxed slightly as Krycek absorbed where he was and with whom.

A slow, lazy, knowing smile began deep in drowsy cat-eyes. Sleep-softened lips parted, "Kiss me?" Krycek murmured, shifting against the body beside him. He moved with a practiced ease that made Skinner wonder how often the younger man in his bed had woken in the same position.

Skinner bent forward and brushed his lips against the inviting mouth in a quick soft touch. "Good morning," he said quietly.

Krycek tilted his head slightly. "I don't get you, Skinner," he said in his husky drawl. "I know you want me," he bent his head and bit lightly at the nape, smiling knowingly at the shuddering traveling through muscular limbs. "I'm here, so what are you waiting for?"

Skinner's large blunt fingers framed Krycek's face and held him still for inspection. "Hell yes, I want you, Alex," it was his turn to smile a little ruefully, "rather impossible for me to deny. But," he paused, waited until he had Krycek's undivided attention, and then he said calmly, "I have no taste for rape."

Green eyes widened incredulously. "What the fuck are you talking about? You're not raping me."

Skinner slowly traced the narrow up-turned nose and slanted cheekbones with his fingertips. "Wouldn't I be? Alex, I'm not Mulder, he may believe only what he wants to, but..." he paused wondering how to put it into words. "That first night when you came to my room—you know I was in 'Nam?"

Krycek nodded, uncertain where this was leading but rather enjoying the slow gentle stroking.

"Back there I saw enough faked desire. Whores," Skinner said quietly ignoring the sudden stillness, "walking the street for johns." Pensively he added, "and often enough I was one of them. I learned very young, Alex, not as young as you granted, but still too young, to recognize fake need and the desperation not for you but for the bills you throw on the bed after you're finished." He leaned forward and very gently kissed Alex again, not forcing the entry of pressed lips, as Krycek turned his head away. "Rape doesn't have to be an attack in some dark back-alley or being held down forcibly. Rape means having no choice."

Skinner ignored Krycek's sudden unease although he moved behind and his strong hands massaged away the sudden tightness that coiled shoulder and back muscles of the younger man.

Quietly he said, "That night, Alex, that's what I read in your eyes. Was that the bargain you had in mind? The use of your body in return for being held for a night?"

"Yes..."

Krycek swallowed, aiming for a light sardonic tone yet somehow it emerged closer to an agonized whisper. "You're right I was a whore," a smile bitter as death, "once a whore always one, huh?"

"Is that what Mulder said?" Skinner asked quietly.

Krycek didn't answer. "It's all right," he finally said wearily. "I know what I am."

Large arms held him, their grip not bruising or confining, offering quiet support instead. "So do I. You're intelligent and resourceful," a wry smile, "not to mention deadly." Skinner moved away putting his hands behind his head secretly pleased with the hint of confusion Krycek couldn't hide.

Krycek raised himself cat-like, limb by limb until he was perched beside Skinner, legs crossed. "What do you want from me, Skinner?"

Skinner didn't smile but his voice was laced with lazy amusement, "Would you believe nothing?"

"No."

A calm nod, "Then, nothing but what you're willing to offer."

"Like what?" Krycek asked suspiciously, "what's your angle, Skinner?"

"No angle, no plan, no plot, Alex, I leave that up to the experts." Skinner smiled through heavy-lidded eyes.

Krycek looked torn between distrust and the need to believe him.

###

"I'm telling you Hemingway is crap!" The raised voice from the kitchen made Mulder hasten his stride. The sight that met him had him shaking his head in mingled wonder and pain. Krycek was standing by the kitchen counter, a glass of wine in his hand and arguing with Skinner who was stirring a pot on the stove.

"The man was a genius," Skinner growled back.

Krycek hooted in derision, "That's bullshit, he just knew the importance of PR. He managed to convince everyone that there was something special with his 'style'" Krycek's voice mocked the word style. "He was a second class journalist and that's all."

"Hmmph! I guess you prefer the brick type of author," Skinner scoffed. "More is not necessarily better."

Krycek looked at him in challenge, "Russian literature is the greatest in the world."

"Great at doom and gloom you mean," Skinner retorted giving the pot a stir. "Do you know the definition of a happy ending in a Russian novel?"

Krycek shook his head.

"It's when everyone dies," Skinner said. Taking out the plates and glasses from the cabinet he started to set the table.

Krycek's mouth twitched as he hitched his hips against the counter and dangled his feet. "What's a tragic ending then?"

Skinner turned off the stove and removed a loaf of crusty bread from the oven. "When only half the people die and the rest spend the next fifty years agonizing over their deaths."

Krycek burst out laughing, "I'll have to remember that one." He suddenly noticed Mulder standing in the door and the smile died on his lips. "Hi, Mulder," he said, all amusement and warmth abruptly wiped from his voice, leaving it completely expressionless.

Mulder fought the feeling that he was interrupting a private moment. "Something smells good," he said, having decided to be civil if it killed him.

Skinner gave him a glance; "You're just in time for dinner, Mulder. Please call the others."

"Yeah, and don't forget to wash your hands and behind your ears," Krycek added, then grinned at the look Skinner shot him.

Mulder actually smiled as he left.

During dinner conversation flowed easier and more natural Skinner noted with approval.

Krycek was soon discussing encryption with Byers and Langley. Paradoxically it seemed as though the three Gunmen had relaxed more with Krycek since he had moved in with Skinner. Or perhaps it was just that Krycek had unbent enough for them to realize there was more to him than just a killer. Or, he thought a little cynically, they believed that Skinner could control Krycek better than Mulder could.

Observing Krycek, Mulder suddenly realized that Skinner was doing the same. Saying little but missing nothing, Skinner was watching Mulder watching Krycek. Mulder shot him a faintly challenging glare.

Skinner gave him a small smile and raised his voice slightly, "Everybody finished?"

It hurt, hurt intensely, to see the dark head turn away from the discussion and the green eyes rest on Skinner, a smile in them.

"That's the problem with these military types," Krycek said to no one in particular, "always clock watching."

Standing up and starting to collect the dirty plates, Skinner growled, "Another thing I learned in the Marines was how to deal with insolent little boys."

Krycek smiled mockingly. "I'm shaking in my boots, what's the punishment, fifty push-ups? Ten laps around the track?"

Skinner gave him a quelling look, "Bed without dessert."

Swift as a cobra, Krycek pounced, "Oh? I rather thought I was dessert in bed."

The three Gunmen who had been chuckling over the exchange choked on their laugh and there were some red faces and hasty mumbles of checking on mail. Within moments Skinner, Mulder and Krycek were alone.

Stretching like a lazy satisfied feline, Krycek murmured blandly, "Was it something I said?"

"You," Skinner told him sternly but with a smile twitching in the corner of his mouth, "are incorrigible."

"I know, I know, but they're so easy," Krycek admitted. He pushed back his chair and stood up. "I'm going to phone Peter." He gave Skinner a strange, almost shy look and left.

Skinner began washing the plates, stacking them neatly to dry. Mulder still said nothing, just sipped his wine.

There was little use in denying that Alex with Skinner was a very different man. More relaxed, smiling easier, light-hearted enough to tease and joke.

"How do you do it, sir?" He suddenly burst out. Oh great, he was still calling the man 'sir', but the honorific was so automatic by now it just slipped out.

"Do what?" Skinner asked calmly wiping the counter clean.

"How do you make him smile and laugh like that?"

Wringing out the dish-cloth and folding it neatly, Skinner returned to the table and poured himself another glass of wine. "Alex's got a great sense of humor if a bit warped." He smiled wryly. "He's also got a rather acute sense of the absurd."

He gave Mulder a level look; "I think the secret, if there is one, is that I treat him like Alex Krycek. He's not a possession," Mulder flushed darkly, "or a toy, or a thing. He's a human being, try treating him like that once in a while, Mulder, and you'll find that behind the admittedly spectacularly stunning facade there is an equally fascinating personality lurking."

He walked off leaving Mulder alone.

###

Hell, Mulder decided three days later, was being cooped up in the Gunmen's place with no way of leaving, together with the man he loved and watching said man fall in love with Fox Mulder's superior.

After spending a sleepless night tossing and turning, and trying not to imagine what was going on in Skinner's room, Mulder sought out Skinner the next morning, finding him working on his damn security, Krycek watching.

"I'm thinking of leaving. I'll go and check on Scully," Mulder said abruptly.

Krycek looked up, "It's been nice knowing you, Mulder," he said dryly.

Mulder glared at him. "What are you talking about?"

A sigh of exaggerated patience. "Mulder, are you living on the same planet as we are?" Krycek crossed his arm, hip leaning against the table. "Granted we covered our tracks, but if Spender or someone else starts suspecting what we did you're fish-food." He added coldly, "What do you think Skinner and I are doing?" He gestured at the half-finished mines and surveillance equipment, "building Legos for our own amusement? There is a very good chance that there will be an attack here. Alone out there you're a sitting duck."

Mulder said no less coolly, "I'm willing to take the risk."

Icy green eyes gazed back at him, "I'm not."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Mulder demanded.

Krycek said sardonically, "If you'd just get yourself killed that's one thing, but the chances are they'll get the truth from you before they kill you. I want that chip out of Petya's neck, and that means Scully doesn't run off on some crazy rescue mission just because you're too stupid to keep your ass where it belongs."

"You can't stop me," Mulder spat.

Krycek uncoiled his body, eyes narrowing, "Try me," he said with a deadly softness.

That's when Skinner intervened. "Back off, Alex," he ordered, and to Mulder's mixed amazement and anger, Krycek actually obeyed.

Skinner turned to Mulder. "He's right. You're staying put until this is finished." When Mulder opened his mouth to protest, Skinner silenced him with a single look. "I don't want any arguments from you, Mulder. Remember, you're the one who chose to become involved in this mission."

Mulder glared at them both, angry that he couldn't throw the real reason he had to get away in their faces. "Fine!" he finally muttered, stalking out. Over his shoulder he could see Skinner say something quietly to Krycek and fuck but it was pure torture to see Alex's answering smile.

Hell was finding them on the sofa watching 'Independence Day' with Krycek providing loud and derisive comments.

"I can't fucking believe it, he just steals a chopper goes off to LA and just happens to fly to the exact spot where his girlfriend is," Krycek complained. He was stretched out in the sofa, feet in Skinner's lap. In his faded jeans and T-shirt with long, narrow feet bare he looked more like a grad student than an ex-assassin.

He stared in obvious disgust at the TV. "Who the fuck writes these things? A five year old could do a better job. And the aliens are just so fake!"

Skinner said blandly "Maybe you should consider a new career, creative consultant to sci-fi movies. You could probably make sure they're a lot more realistic." Krycek gave him an evil look, which he promptly ignored.

Skinner looked up and saw Mulder. "Hi, Mulder."

Mulder moved into the room, seeing the subtle tension that immediately invaded Krycek's body before he relaxed again.

"Come on, join us," Krycek said with a quirk of dark eyebrows. "We're just taking apart a lousy movie that made too much money for its own good." He moved a little closer to Skinner giving Mulder the odd impression that he was seeking comfort or a kind of subtle, unconscious, protection.

Mulder sat down in the chair fighting down his impulse to go drag Krycek away from Skinner. "I've seen it, it's not that bad."

A soft husky laugh set his blood pounding. "Bullshit, it's got plot-holes you can drive a truck through, and I fucking hate movies where two brave men save the entire universe while everyone stands around and applauds. Fucking John Wayne syndrome. Fucking heroes." He brooded.

Skinner patted one of the feet in his lap. "Not all of us can be shady vil - ah," he broke off at the dirty glare Krycek shot him, "anti-heroes?"

A sudden smile lurked in usually somber brown eyes. "Besides, you know bad guys are always considered not only more interesting but also more attractive."

Krycek gave him a long suspicious look, "Are you trying to say that you think I'm sexy?"

Skinner very slowly, very deliberately let his eyes sweep over the sprawled body, starting at his feet and working his way up.

By the time Skinner's inspection reached Krycek's face, red burned along the slanted cheekbones, but green eyes were bright with laughter. "Skinner?"

"Hmm... I'm thinking," Skinner said solemnly, and then, "you'll do in a pinch I guess."

It was all rather light-hearted, and it sliced Mulder apart from the inside. Not, he thought bitterly, that either of the other two noticed.

He would have been surprised to realize that Skinner was very aware of his feelings. However, they were noted and then dismissed as unimportant as Skinner began the process of re-building shattered trust and overcome walls Krycek had spent a life constructing.

Another man would have found the task more than a little daunting, but not Walter Sergei Skinner. He had always liked taking care of people, seeking out responsibilities as assiduously as most men avoided them. Sharon had once teased him that he was a born nurturer, and indeed one of his greatest sorrows had been the fact that they'd never had any children. Sharon's decision, not his. In Vietnam he had been father, protector and older brother to his men. It had not taken more than a few weeks for him to lose all his illusions about the war he had been sent to fight. Victory was impossible, and he had found his purpose not in military conquest but in the safekeeping of his unit. Later on, during his FBI career the agents under his command had become his surrogate family, perhaps that was why he had allowed Mulder's antics—the agent had little idea of just how close he had been to permanent exile before Skinner intervened and assumed responsibility for him.

Krycek, however, was a very different matter. If Mulder wore all his emotions on the outside, all but revelling in his neuroses, Krycek resembled an onion; the more layers you peeled away, the more was revealed. Hiding behind the smooth, sarcastic, flip mask he had perfected, the only thing Alex Krycek could not guard completely was his eyes.

Looking into jade-green irises, Skinner had to his shock seen and recognized the same pain that stared back from his own eyes when he looked into the mirror. It had made him wonder what kind of life had shaped the traitor and assassin, and to his own amazement he had actually begun to speculate on just how to help a young man with too much pain in his past.

The torment in Krycek's eyes when he thought no one was looking had also made Skinner, if not forget, then forgive his own suffering and hatred far more easily than he probably should have.

Alex Krycek was deadly, fiercely independent; wary as hell and with defenses a mile high and wide. He also had a disconcertingly acute sense of when someone lied to him, probably because he was such an expert liar himself. Helping him heal would not be easy. Skinner grinned to himself, he did love a real challenge.

"That's a funny smile; what are you plotting?" Krycek's husky voice broke into his thoughts. He looked up and found green eyes regarding him quizzically.

He patted the denim-clad leg close to him; "I was thinking about our defenses, I have to talk to Langley about a broken security camera."

No, it wouldn't be easy but then the worthwhile things in life seldom were.

###

Krycek's words were proven true less than two days later.

Despite their precautions, the attack took them by surprise. Krycek was on the computer doing a database search when the alarm went off. He reacted automatically, throwing himself to the left and out of the line of fire just as the front door burst open and four armed men burst through it spraying the room with gunfire.

Skinner, who was coming from the kitchen carrying a cup of coffee, had time to shout a warning over his shoulder to Mulder and the Gunmen and then he dove for cover, the hot liquid splashing over him and making him swear. Krycek pulled his gun while rolling. It had taken more hours and pain than he wanted to remember before he'd regained even a fraction of his old speed and dexterity. In the old days none of the attackers would have had the chance to return fire, he'd have taken them out before they were halfway through the door. But these weren't the old days, and two years away from the game had further slowed his reactions.

Swearing, he ended the roll on his stomach, handling the gun one-handed, firing, laying down cover for Skinner who darted forward in a crouch.

"Behind you!" he yelled, and watched Skinner turn and shoot. A small detached part of him noted and filed away the information that Skinner was good in a firefight. Crouching behind the desk, he called out, "How many?"

Balancing on the balls of his feet, Skinner answered calmly, "I count eight, four in front, two are coming in from the left, and," a quick look at the security monitor, "two are in the backyard." He smiled in satisfaction at the dull boom and startled yelp of pain. "Six now."

Krycek nodded and seizing a box of discs on the floor beside him, threw it to the left. As the attackers automatically tracked the movement; he raised his head and shot twice in rapid succession, listening with satisfaction to the resulting thuds. "Two more down," he called out.

Adrenaline pounding through him, body preternaturally alive, head cool and calculating, Skinner acknowledged it with a wave of his hand as he pressed himself against the turned over table. He called softly, "Krycek!" And waited until he saw green eyes turned on him. Mutely he held up two fingers and then pointed. Krycek nodded once to show he understood and then they rose, moving as one, covering each other's blind spots as they moved in perfect tanmed taking out the remaining men.

In the back of his head, Skinner noted with faint surprise and appreciation just how smoothly they moved together, almost able to read each other's thoughts. He threw himself to the left, feeling Krycek's bullet pass over his shoulder and taking out the man aiming for his back. It usually took years to click that well with anyone.

That's when what must never happen did. Skinner was laying down fire as Krycek ran forward when his gun jammed. Swearing viciously he frantically re-loaded but realized with a sick sense of failure that he was leaving Krycek wide open as he watched a man rising from behind the overturned table and take aim.

Even knowing it was too late, he yelled a warning, "Look out, Alex!" Knowing with a terrible certainty that it would be too late. He closed his eyes unable to watch Alex fall and then there were three shots in rapid succession and when he opened them again, Mulder was standing in the open door, a gun in his hand and looking rather pale.

Krycek rolled over, and rose, "Thanks," he breathed out slowly, "I thought I was toast."

Skinner rose as well, surveying the wreckage of the room, the blood, and brain matter splattered over the walls and floor and the dead bodies. He walked over to the nearest dead man and prodded it with his foot. "Who are they?"

Krycek looked down at the dead man, arms out flung in the obscene limpness of death. "Never seen them before," he said shortly after a quick inspection. "Doesn't have to mean anything though, after two years I wouldn't."

A soft groan behind them had them turning and aiming swiftly, as they saw that the leader was still alive, if barely. Walking over to him, Krycek rolled him over, and then his face turned to stone...

"All clear," Mulder said, coming up behind him. He looked down at the dying man and exclaimed, "Hey! Isn't that...?"

"Yeah," Krycek went down on his knees beside the man and almost gently stroked back sweat-soaked hair from a grimy blood-spattered forehead. "Why, Garrett?" he said quietly.

Garrett's mouth twisted. "Spender wanted you dead, and I was more than happy to oblige." His dark eyes burned for a moment. "Once he heard Fox Mulder was talking to his father's old friends and that you were with him, he wanted both of you taken out."

The two men stared at each other for a moment.

"How long have you been working for Spender?" Krycek asked harshly.

Garrett coughed wetly, "Years." He gave Krycek a narrowed-eyed look of hatred. "You do what you have to in order to survive, isn't that what you always said?" he coughed again, a small trickle of blood running from the corner of his mouth. "And not all of us were so lucky as to have a private protector."

Krycek gave him an incredulous look. "Jesus fucking Christ, Garrett, you of all people can't seriously think I ever wanted anything of Bill Mulder's?"

Garrett wheezed, "You never knew how fucking lucky you were, Krycek. You try being common property." His mouth twisted, "meat for anyone who wanted it."

"Oh, hell, Garrett," Krycek closed his eyes, a strange pain flickering in their depths. "I would have traded with you in a second. I would have given anything not to be exclusive to the Mulders."

Behind him, and unnoticed by either, Mulder winced, feeling a knife shoved through his ribs, would he never cease being reminded of what kind of man his father was?

"Yeah, well, I never got the chance, not as long as little Alex Krycek," the name was a curse, "with his green eyes and whore's body was there. Alex who always thought himself better than the rest of us."

Very, very softly, Krycek said, "I'm sorry."

The look the two men exchanged thrummed with things unsaid, feelings shared and rejected. And then Garrett hissed, "You fucker, you got out and left me behind, what the hell did you expect?"

His eyes closed as he fought for breath. "Christ, I laughed my ass off when I heard about the deal the cub made with Spender, but then the fucker wimped out," Garrett gave Mulder a malevolent glare, "and instead of killing you, his fucking son fell in love with you!"

"Garrett, will Spender come after us again?"

A bitter smile, "I hope so, but I doubt it. He was angry when he gave the order, but once he calms down, hell, you know he'll let the fox cub get away with anything."

His breathing was becoming more irregular, fainter. "I always hated you Krycek," he whispered. They were his last words. Two, three more labored breaths and then his body arched, and abruptly relaxed in the limpness of death.

Krycek remained at his side, head bent for a moment, and then gently reached out and closed the two staring eyes.

When he rose his face was calm, composed. "We need to dispose of the bodies," he said. Calmly re-loading his gun, not looking at the body at his feet, he was suddenly the cold, calculating assassin and traitor. The man Mulder had hated.

He turned away abruptly, "Better phone someone to come clean up," he said over his shoulder stalking off.

Skinner looked down at the dead bodies again, "He's right, we need disposal. I've got a friend who works black ops out at Langley; he owes me a favor. I'll go call him." He too walked off in the opposite direction, leaving Mulder alone, blinking and wondering what the hell had happened here.

Frohike peered around the door, "Everything okay?" he asked, glancing nervously at the bodies.

Mulder shook his head. "I have no idea," he admitted.

Frohike came all the way into the room, still avoiding looking at the mute evidence of violence. "Man, that was intense," he said.

Mulder almost laughed, pushing a hand through his hair, "That's one word for it."

###

After talking to his friend who agreed to send some cleaners, Skinner went in search of Krycek and found him cleaning his guns. He didn't look up when Skinner approached.

"Want to tell me what that was about?" Skinner asked casually, sitting down at the table.

There was no answer as long slender fingers moved unerringly over the metal.

"Talk to me, Alex," Skinner said quietly, "tell me what's wrong."

Krycek laughed bitterly. "Wrong? Nothing's fucking wrong."

Skinner was silent for a moment. "You knew Garrett." It was not a question.

Krycek shrugged, "We came up together. We fucked, we killed, what else is there to know?"

"You were friends?"

Another shrug. "As much as you could be in the Consortium." A short pause, "he saved my life once."

"I'm sorry," Skinner said softly. "It's not easy killing friends." Ancient pain haunted his voice unnoticed by Krycek.

Krycek looked up and smiled. A glittering hard smile, lips peeling back from white teeth. "Don't be. You heard him, he'd have killed me in a second and enjoyed doing it."

"Alex..." Skinner's voice was very soft. "Don't do this to yourself. You killed to survive that's all it was."

Krycek suddenly sprang from his seat, "You don't know shit!" he hissed. Restlessly pacing towards the room he turned back and said feverishly, "I've killed; good men, bad men, didn't make a difference. They ordered; I killed. Better them than me, I always thought. I still do." He spat the words at Skinner. "Fuck or kill, that's been my two choices, and hell yes, I'd rather kill than fuck!" He laughed coldly. "Do you think there is a special place for dead assassins? A place where we finally get to meet those we've killed? The faces we've only seen through a telescope on a high-powered rifle?"

"Stop it, Alex," Skinner said coldly, and something in his tone brought the younger man whipping around, eyes wide at the sudden icy hardness.

And then, Skinner said harshly, "Do you really think that when we took a vil in 'Nam," unconciously he used army slang for a civilian village, "that the bullets somehow managed to miraculously miss the innocents? The women and children?" Big hands knotted into fists, "I've probably killed as many as you have, Alex, and more of mine were innocent." When he looked at Krycek, pain flashed across his face and haunted his dark eyes. "I've gotten stinking drunk and laid everything that moved to forget the screams of the kids we shot, the old women who died, cursing our names. Fuck, yes, Alex, I know what you're feeling!"

There was a long silence, and then Krycek said quietly, all anger abruptly gone. "I'm sorry Walter." For the first time he used the intimacy of a first name.

Reaching out, he slowly cradled the larger man in his arms, kissing his way down a temple and jaw, feeling tense muscles slowly relax. It was his turn to hold and comfort and succor. He, who had never held anyone but Petya in tenderness and love, was experiencing a strange, dangerous compassion for Walter Skinner.

A long silence and finally Krycek sighed, "We are a pair, aren't we?"

Skinner closed his eyes, "Yeah."

"Very eloquent," Krycek kissed him again, coaxing firm lips apart, tasting the mouth slowly, thoroughly. "The strong, silent type, huh?" He broke off the kiss, "I like it," he kissed Skinner again, whispering against his mouth, "I like it a lot. But then, I like just about everything about you."

His body hard and begging without words, Krycek pulled Skinner against him, thrusting, feeling the responding shiver, the nudge of a hard cock against his thigh. "I want you, Walter," he whispered, "I want you so much I ache." Although he had spoken the words many times, they had never been truer.

Skinner froze. "Are you sure, Alex?" he asked, unable to keep the longing from his voice, the need that shook his body and bathed his skin in a fine sheen of moisture.

Alex laughed up at him, green eyes wide and filling with a burning, desperate need. "Oh yes..." he breathed. Slowly, he pulled Skinner along towards their small bedroom uncaring if anyone would see them.

Closing the door behind them, Skinner reminded himself that a battle always brought with it this sudden urgency. He had seen soldiers disappear into the bushes with blood and powder-stains marking their skin dragging women, willing or not, with them. He had not liked it but he had understood the need, though he had never been tempted himself.

However, now that the time had come he was feeling suddenly awkward, almost shy. A flash of doubt tore through him. Even with only one arm Alex Krycek was a strikingly attractive young man. And he had no doubt that Krycek had all the experience he himself lacked.

But then soft lips touched his skin, bit gently and all doubts evaporated into thin air.

Half closing his eyes, Krycek gave Skinner a long assessing look. The tall brawny body laid out before him did not have the rangy perfectness of Mulder's, but as Krycek knelt on the bed scattering kisses across the broad chest, curling his tongue around first one nipple and then the other, enjoying the responding soft gasps, he whispered, and again it had not often been as true, "Fuck, Walter, I want you."

Skinner laughed deeply, the breath hitching in his throat as Krycek moved closer, trailing kisses along the planes of his stomach, "Trust me; I want you more," and then he moaned, as Krycek slid between his legs,

Glimmering cat-eyes smiled up at him, "Impossible."

Skinner shook his head, "I'm still not sure why you're here, Alex."

Alex stretched out beside him, arching his body, all but purring as Skinner ran his hands down his flanks. "Could it be because I want to?"

Skinner looked into jade-green eyes hazy with arousal. "Want, Alex?" Bending his head for a kiss, the soft curve of lips opened easily beneath his mouth and he let need rule him until they were both gasping for air. "You really want an old scarred marine?"

Krycek slid his thigh between two thick muscular legs. "I'll match you scar for scar," a shadow darkened his face and his voice turned bitter.

Skinner chuckled softly, cupping the firm ass, bringing Krycek up against his body until they were both gasping and writhing, their cocks sliding against each other. "Ah, but the difference is you started out pretty."

"Pretty?" Krycek growled. "I'm not fucking pretty!"

Skinner's grin grew wider. "Cute?" he suggested mock seriously.

Krycek groaned. "Worse and worse."

Brown eyes grew dark and smoldering. "How about exciting... magnificent... amazing... superb..."

Taking Skinner's mouth deeply, tongue stroking, teasing deep into the moist cavern, Krycek broke the kiss to murmur; "Now you're talking." He bent his head, trailing kisses along the firm jaw, the arched throat, relishing each moan, each gasp, as large hands molded him, shaped him,

Spreading his legs wider, Krycek raised his knees. But although the long thick fingers continued to probe and touch finding the exact spot that made him writhe in helpless response, making tiny desperate cries, Skinner didn't move.

Krycek pushed his ass closer up against the hard body behind him, and said between gritted teeth, "Will you just fuck me?!"

In answer a long sweep of a wide warm hand began a massage of the nape of his neck, lips biting lightly at his shoulder, and then licking the small mark. Suddenly Skinner stilled. "Look at me Alex," he said softly.

Krycek twisted his head. Skinner was watching him carefully and then he said with a tentative gentleness poignant enough to break a heart, "May I?"

For a moment Krycek looked confused. Skinner waited silently, still, although a fine sheen of sweat covered his body, tiny shivers running beneath the skin and pre-cum dripped from the rock-hard cock nudging against Krycek's thigh.

A moment of bewilderment and then a slow dawning wonder, as if no one had ever asked him that question before.

"Yes, oh yes," Krycek whispered, hooking his arm around Skinner's neck, pulling his head forward for a deep kiss, legs sliding open, hips thrusting upwards.

Breathing out in a deep shuddering breath, Krycek forced himself to relax as he felt Skinner push inside, muscles giving way under the steady pressure. No matter how many times he did this, still there was that one moment where he tensed waiting for the man sliding inside to hurt. To grasp his hips in a bruising grip and force himself inside faster and deeper than the yielding body could take.

Skinner, as if feeling the minute hesitation, shifted, stilling, one hand reaching around and enfolding Krycek's cock. For long moments the only movement was Skinner's hand slowly milking the hard cock, alternating the rhythm until Krycek was groaning, pushing his hips in an attempt to take Skinner deeper. But a strong hand held him still.

"No," Skinner whispered in his ear, "don't move." He remained immobile except for his hand, as he knelt behind Krycek, spreading his thighs strong muscles taking the weight of the younger man's increasingly frantic motions.

Reaching behind him, arm wrapping around the solid shape, he felt Skinner nip at his throat, it was enough and Krycek shuddered and came, gasping and moaning. In a daze he felt himself gently moved, stretched out on his stomach, his legs spread as Skinner used the relaxation of climax to bury himself to the hilt.

Closing his eyes, Krycek shifted, moaning softly and raising his hips in response to the hands urging him gently. He wrapped long legs around Skinner's waist pulling him closer, his eyes sliding shut and another moan working its way up his throat as he felt Skinner's cock nudged him just there and then he almost screamed as he felt his nipples being pinched lightly, coaxed to a bursting hardness, matching the state of his cock. Fuck where had Skinner learned how to do that? He asked as much between clenched teeth.

Skinner laughed huskily, nuzzling his ear, a light tremble traveling through the tall husky body as the older man flexed his hips, burying himself even deeper. "Just doing what comes naturally, Alex..."

And still Skinner refused to be hurried, moving slowly, almost deliberately, as he bent over the curved back, licking the salty sweat that saturated hot smooth skin.

Krycek groaned again, his spine arching in response to the sensation of Skinner's tongue sweeping again and again across his shoulders, licking, nipping hard enough to shudder on that exquisite line between pleasure and pain. Finally, Skinner's hand moved down to his cock again, smoothing the skin between his fingers, playing lightly across the crown, before moving down to the base and gripping hard for a moment preventing the man in his arms from coming.

"Please!" Krycek panted, shamed to hear the naked need in his voice.

"Shh..." Skinner's deep voice was very soft in his ear, and the large hands shaping his willing body were wonderfully gentle. Gradually the shudders stilled until he was lying motionless, tiny shivers running beneath his skin, the only movement Skinner's slow flexing, the lazy slide of his cock inside its hot tight sheath. "It's all right... let go, Alex, I've got you..."

With a deep shuddering breath, Krycek did. He went suddenly boneless allowing passion to rule his body and mind safe in the knowledge that when he fell, Skinner would be there to catch him.

He never knew how long Skinner kept him shuddering on the edge of release, teasing, exploring every inch of his pliant body, each sinewy curve and hard line, coaxing whimpers and moans from the writhing man in his arms. In a daze Krycek felt his own identity subsumed, his body nothing but a puppet in the wide warm hands that caressed and stroked, finding every never-ending and some he never knew existed.

It was with as much relief as pleasure that he finally felt Skinner's breathing pick up speed and become ragged as the force and speed of the thrusting increased, the fingers encircling his cock tighten, as with a deep shuddering groan, Skinner came, the sensation of the hot wetness poured into him, enough to push Krycek over as well.

Afterwards, Krycek curled peacefully against the big body next to him, and suddenly realized that he didn't feel the need to crawl away, to go take a shower. Instead he burrowed into the strong arms, smelling himself and sex on the pale skin. He almost laughed, loving the tendril of fire whispering through him at the thought.

"You know," he said lazily, fingers tracing patterns on the broad chest he was resting his chin against. "Things would have been a lot less complicated if we'd done this years ago." He glanced up and smiled at Skinner, "fuck knows I wanted to."

Skinner shook his head. "No, it wouldn't, it would have been worse." There was no regret in the deep voice. "At the time the Consortium held your leash," he paused, eyes suddenly dark and hard, "and mine."

Krycek bit his lip, eyes falling. "Yeah, you're right," he said softly accepting the truth.

They lay in silence for a long time, Skinner's arm around the younger man. Finally Krycek stirred and said quietly into the darkness. "Now what?"

Skinner didn't answer at first. "We take it one step at a time, Alex." He looked at the man in his arms and his voice softened. "I don't know where this is going, but I think we've got something worthwhile here."

There was another long silence. "This is crazy you know," Krycek said although he didn't move. "You and I. It's pure insanity."

"Why?" Skinner asked calmly.

Krycek said dryly, "Because the last time we met I killed you? Or because the time before that you punched me in the gut and handcuffed me to your balcony leaving me to freeze my ass off?"

Skinner chuckled one hand sliding down and cupping the rounded ass stroking lightly, teasingly along the crack and enjoying the responsive quiver it caused. "Hmm... everything is still here." His arms tightened a little, "and so am I. I'm not saying I enjoyed what you did, or that there haven't been times when I've dreamed of what I'd do if I ever got my hands on you." He ignored the sudden stiffening. "But hell, Alex, I figure if I can forgive Charlie for shooting at me, I can forgive you for following orders." A sudden smile glimmered for a moment, "especially since, according to Spender, you didn't actually follow orders."

Krycek chuckled although his eyes were still watchful, relaxing at the wry tone. Skinner's calm logical pragmatism was far more reassuring to him than Mulder's impassioned promises. "I've never been good at doing what I'm told."

"I remember," Skinner said wryly.

Again Krycek was trapped by a real laugh. "Yeah I guess you do," he yawned feeling suddenly sleepy.

Skinner yawned as well, his eyes closing as he relaxed. "Good night, Alex," he murmured.

"Good night, Walter," Krycek said as he freed himself and turned on his side. Skinner let him go, putting his arms under his pillow.

Like old lovers comfortable with each other, he and Skinner drifted off to sleep.

###

Krycek woke to a gentle kiss coaxing his lips apart, tongue stroking smoothly inside, tasting and exploring until he was clinging breathlessly. His eyes opened and stared in the tender chocolate-brown of his lover.

He froze. Eyes snapping wide and panic exploding through him. Lovers. He and Walter Skinner were lovers. Not casual fucks, not a body to be used or given in payment. Lovers. Caring. Commitment.

He shot from the bed, "I, uh, I, I'll be right back," he stammered like an idiot and fled into the bathroom. Standing beneath the hot spray he told himself to calm down, to cool it. While shaving he told himself that he was over-reacting. Nothing said Skinner was interested in anything more than a few friendly fucks while they were here. He ignored the piercing pain that thought caused. While brushing his teeth he told himself that he could handle this. What was there really to worry about? So he and Skinner had fucked? Big deal. And brushing back unruly dark hair he looked in the mirror and smiled wryly knowing he was lying to himself.

When he came out again Skinner was dressed but waiting for him. "Want to tell me what that was about?" he asked calmly.

Krycek shook his head. "Back off, Skinner," he said rather abruptly.

Skinner hesitated and then he brushed his fingers through dark silky hair. "All right," he said quietly. He waited until Krycek was halfway to the door before he spoke again. "Alex."

The dark man turned gracefully, "Yes?"

"Just so you know... I'm not just after a few friendly fucks."

He ignored the sudden and dramatic paling as he walked past, saying over his shoulder. "I thought you should know the truth."

Krycek was limbering up, stretching, face distracted still thinking about Walter's last shocking words when Mulder came out dressed casually in sweat-pants and a T-shirt.

"What are you doing?" Mulder asked.

"I'm going out for a jog."

"Would you mind some company?" Mulder asked casually.

A brief hesitation and then, "Sure, why not?"

He waited while Mulder went in and got his running shoes and then they started off down the road towards the park. Falling into rhythm easily, Krycek felt the usual rush of pleasure as his body responded to the exercise, blood circulating faster and muscles and sinews stretching and moving.

By unspoken agreement they did two laps of the park and then slowed down to a walk by the small lake.

They walked in silence side by side for a while, and then Mulder broke it, "So, Scully tells me you own a bookstore," he smiled, "I must admit it's not the first thing I would have thought you'd be doing."

Krycek shrugged pushing back a strand of dark hair that had fallen in his eyes. "I've always loved books," The image of Alex curled in his sofa reading suddenly flashed before his eyes, "and when I started thinking of what I could do to, a bookstore seemed ideal. I set my own hours and because we live in the same house I can be there when Peter comes home from school if he needs me."

"You really love him, don't you?" Mulder said a little wistfully.

"Yes," Krycek said simply. "I would do anything for him."

Mulder cleared his throat, "Back, you know, then, you said his mother was your sister."

Krycek didn't answer and his face turned cold and closed.

"Umm, I'm sorry I didn't mean to pry," Mulder apologized.

Krycek didn't answer but picked up speed, moving from a walk into a run. They didn't say anything else until they were a couple of blocks from the Safe House, Washington, DC. Krycek slowed to a walk once more. His face however was more relaxed again. Feeling the beginnings of cramp he stopped and bent, massaging his leg, looking up at Mulder and said ruefully, "I'm really out of shape."

Mulder smiled wryly, "Ain't it great when your body starts going out on you? Here, let me help," he knelt reaching out and massaging the calf, feeling the knotted muscles and digging his thumbs into them.

Krycek groaned but didn't pull away. "Oh yeah, fuck, that feels good."

Finally Mulder felt the knot dissolve beneath his fingers. He looked up and found Alex looking down at him; their faces so close he could feel the light touch of Alex's breath stir his hair. "Alex...?" he murmured, reaching out and tentatively pressing his lips to the tempting spot just below his ear.

Krycek closed his eyes and swayed towards Mulder, moaning faintly.

Startled and delighted by the response, Mulder increased the pressure, feeling Alex's lips part and his tongue dart out and wrap itself around Mulder's sucking him in.

Still with his mouth firmly on Alex's, he reached down and slid his hands beneath the loose sweatshirt, fingers exploring the silky skin and lingering on the sensitive nubs of flesh causing Alex to moan and arch into the touch. Mulder smiled, bending forward and kissing his way along the tense jaw and taut throat as Krycek closed his eyes and leaned against the wall behind his back, his hand sliding along Mulder's shoulder, strong fingers massaging the smooth flesh.

"God, I want you so much, Alex," Mulder whispered as he explored the delicate curve of an ear, biting gently into a soft spongy earlobe before moving lower again. His hands pulled Alex's ass between his legs, dipping inside the loose sweat-pants, stroking across tense muscles and smooth flanks.

He paused waiting for Alex's response, but the other man only shook his head, his eyes still closed he moaned again, reaching for Mulder.

Smiling in fierce satisfaction, the words of love froze on Mulder's tongue as he stared at the faint red mark on Krycek's neck; the mute testament that last night Alex had been in bed with another man. That he had allowed another man to take him, to mark him as his.

A jealous, possessive rage filled him. He pushed Krycek up against the wall and spun him around brutally. "How fucking dare you?!" he ground out between clenched teeth. Using spit and pre-cum to lubricate himself enough to thrust into the open, still body of the man he pressed against the unyielding surface of bricks and cement. "Damn you, Alex!" he whispered against the bent neck, biting into the sensitive soft skin, tasting blood, listening to the soft groans, muffled against the wall, as Krycek pushed his body against Mulder's riding out the violence and punishing rhythm. "Say it! Say you love me!"

The words were far closer to an arrogant command than a plea.

Krycek shook his head, "No," he whispered, closing his eyes. "No," he suddenly turned his head and sought Mulder's lips, catching them in a deep hungry kiss as his hips began thrusting with greater urgency, as he braced himself against the wall. "No," he said for a third time even as his body yielded.

Reaching around, Mulder found Krycek's cock, milking it in counter-rhythm to his own thrusts. Running his fingers along the silky hardness, fondling the heavy balls, he laughed deep in his throat at the small helpless sound Alex made as Mulder found the heavy vein throbbing along the hardness, running his fingernail along it, slowly.

With a final harsh groan, Alex came and the shudders that shook his body pushed Mulder over the edge as he poured himself into Krycek's hot willing body.

Even before Mulder had ceased his internal trembles, Krycek slipped away, ducking beneath Mulder's bracing arm, pulling up his pants and stepped around the man he been joined with only moments before and headed for the house.

Mulder wanted badly to say something but he was kept mute by the sick self-loathing in green eyes before Krycek lowered them. Still, he couldn't keep from thinking that this would finally show Alex what a mistake he'd made.

###

When the two men walked into the house Mulder had a satisfied little smile tugging at his lips while Krycek trailing behind him looked weary and disheveled.

Skinner looked up, eyes suddenly sharp and cold. Mulder looked at him with a mixture of defiance and satisfaction, Krycek had ducked his head, not looking at anyone. "We'll finish this later, Langley," Skinner said shortly, stalking forward. "Mulder, Frohike wants, you," he snapped.

For a moment it looked as if Mulder was going to refuse, but then old habit took over and he left with a long glance over his shoulder.

"Come here, Alex," Skinner ordered curtly.

Krycek's head jerked up and he stared at Skinner. "I guess this means you want me to move out," he said coolly.

Skinner lifted an eyebrow, "What makes you think that, Alex?"

Krycek bit his lip, "Oh, I see." He tried to shrug nonchalantly, "Ah well, if you don't care Mulder's been poaching." A sudden searing bitterness, "I guess it doesn't mean anything to you, huh."

Two long strides took Skinner to within reach of the younger man. "Is that how you see yourself, Alex? As property to be poached?"

Another shrug. "Does it matter?"

Strong fingers framed his jaw, pulled him in close to the large body. "Yes." And when he dared look up, there was no anger just sadness darkening mahogany-brown eyes. "You're free to share your bed and your body with anyone." He allowed a little emotion to bleed through, "That doesn't mean I like it. But, in the end, it's your decision, Alex."

Krycek stared at him for a moment. "Christ, you confuse the hell out of me! Every time I think I've got you figured out, you pull something like this and I'm left in a tailspin. I was sure—" he broke off.

Skinner said calmly, "That I would either scream 'slut' and throw you out, or fuck you through the wall to prove my ownership of you?"

Krycek gasped, "How the hell did you know?!"

Large blunt fingers threaded themselves through dark hair, gently massaging the scalp, "I may not be a brilliant profiler and psychologist like Mulder," he ignored the tension the name caused, "but give me credit for some intelligence. I've lived through a lot of shit, Alex, and I know where you're coming from. Hell, we have enough acquaintances in common for me to make an educated guess of what you've done to survive, even without," he paused, "Scully filling me in on the details." He ignored the sudden stiffening, the utter stillness.

"She told you?" A choked whisper.

Skinner met the anger calmly. "Yes, she did. She wasn't betraying you, Alex, but she thought I needed to know." He admitted a little wryly, "let's just say that when the smoker first wanted me to find you, I wasn't too happy about it. I guess she wanted to make sure I didn't go off the deep end, when we met." A thread of amusement ran through his deep voice, "Agent Scully can be a bit of a busybody at times."

"I don't need your pity!" Krycek spat, eyes slitted and cold.

"Why should I pity you, Alex?" Skinner asked calmly. "You've survived hell and come out of it relatively whole. Why the fuck should I pity the man you've become?"

Krycek remained frozen, staring at him suspiciously, ready to pounce on the least hint of pity. He reminded Skinner irresistibly of an angry feline, graceful, deadly, fur bristling and tail lashing the ground. He almost laughed at the image and the smile colored his voice when he said, "Stop glaring at me, Alex." He sobered, "look at me." When Krycek stubbornly looked away he repeated the words, a command, not a request this time. "Look at me."

Slowly, unwillingly, Krycek raised wary green eyes. "What?"

Quietly, but with great force, Skinner said. "I'm only going to say this once, so listen carefully. I don't care about your past. I don't care what you've been. You've sold your body. So have we all in one way or another." He met Alex's eyes squarely, reminding him without words that there were others who had been owned, however unwillingly, by the Consortium. Then he continued very calmly, "what you did does not make you evil or weak nor," a crooked smile, "does it make you good. It makes you a survivor."

Krycek blinked. Somehow Skinner's simple words struck at the core of his being in a way that all of Mulder's impassioned statements hadn't. Perhaps it was because he looked into the calm, dark brown eyes, of this man and felt a spark of recognition leap between them.

"It's not the same thing," he argued, unwilling to concede.

Skinner growled, "Tell me, Alex, is it some inborn perversity that makes you so contrary?"

That surprised a real laugh from the younger man, and although still wary Krycek didn't back away when Skinner reached for him. He had expected Skinner to act the alpha male, growling, proving his ownership. But he was slowly coming to see that in the AD's case, strength was tempered with a rare and wonderful gentleness and generosity.

Very softly he spoke the words which he had said to nobody but Petya and meant them; "I'm sorry."

In answer Skinner reached out and enfolded him. Feeling brawny arms go around him, Krycek closed his eyes and slowly, slowly exhaled, feeling muscles that had been tense too long literally quiver with release. It was humiliating and foolish and childish to feel so relieved just because Skinner whispered in his ear, "It's all right, Alex." Stupid to feel this almost incandescent joy just because he could feel Skinner's lips travel slowly across his skin, pausing occasionally to soothe and kiss.

Skinner kissed the upturned face, lingering over one slanted cheekbone listening to the soft moan, the instinctive arching into his body. He allowed himself a quiet smile at the intense tenderness that filled him as he held and comforted this man who could probably kill him, ex-Marine or not, in minutes.

The gentleness that was usually hidden beneath the gruff demeanor of an AD reached out and enfolded Krycek. "You don't have to explain yourself." He ran his hands down the muscled, wiry body. Light, teasing touches.

Suspicious green eyes glared at him, "How the fuck can you understand?!"

Skinner said quietly "After 'Nam, a bunch of us used to get together, talk because no one who hadn't been over there would understand what we were feeling, why the hell we couldn't keep a job or a relationship. One of the guys used to get drunk as hell, run around with women he didn't care a damn about, all to drive away the one person he loved more than life. He was feeling so guilty for what he was, what he'd done, that he honestly didn't think he deserved to be happy." A brief pause and then in a voice thick with remembered pain Skinner said, "and in the end, she did leave, and Jimmy put a gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger."

Krycek snorted, "I'm hardly about to do the same thing."

Skinner chuckled softly, running his fingers through thick sable hair. "I never thought you would, you're tougher than any of us. But you do feel the same guilt we all do, don't you, Alex."

It wasn't a question and the deep voice continued relentlessly, "You live every day with the guilt over the people you've killed and the promises you've broken. For what you did to survive." Very gently, he finished, "and most of all you feel guilt for surviving when those you love haven't."

Shuddering as he felt Skinner's word strike him, Krycek tried to pull away. When the older man wouldn't allow it, he said stiffly. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you do," Skinner said evenly, "I can see it in your eyes, in everything you do." He paused, "that's the real reason you went off with Mulder today. You're punishing yourself. You can't face the fact that someone might actually genuinely care not just about fucking you or your skill with a gun. Hell," he said, still in that calm voice, "you're nothing but a whore and you wanted Mulder to prove it to you." He shook his head, "and he, poor bastard, wants you enough that he'll go along."

Krycek didn't say anything, stunned by Skinner's perception.

Skinner sighed wearily, "Dammit Alex, you're not being fair to either yourself or Mulder." He ran one hand lightly through the silky hair, "Mulder's not a bad man. He would have helped you for nothing if you'd given him the chance."

Krycek almost shrugged. "If you say so."

Large hands stroked slowly down his body in a soothing repetitive motion. "You know, Alex, one day you're going to have to trust somebody and not automatically assume the worst." He said quietly, "Have you ever trusted anybody?"

A long silence, and then slowly, "I, no..." he hesitated and then very softly, "I trust you." He glanced up and strange smile shaped his mouth. "I've done just about everything I could to you, and you're still here."

"Good," Skinner said a little gruffly to hide the emotion deepening his voice. "I'm glad you've realized that much at least." He tilted his lover's head, looking down into the elegant, deceptively delicate features, "even Mulder has forgiven you, why don't you try and forgive yourself Alex? I think it may be time."

###

When Mulder came into the tiny kitchen, he almost backed away again as quickly. Krycek was standing by the refrigerator pouring a glass of beer, a double bologna sandwich beside him. At the sight of the other man, Alex gave a nod and a tentative smile but didn't say anything. He took his plate and sat down at the table, munching on the sandwich in silence, watching Mulder.

Both men were only too aware that they had not spoken since their early morning encounter.

Mulder had no idea what Skinner and Alex had said to each other during their confrontation, but whatever it was, afterwards Krycek had seemed to relax a little. As if some sort of barrier had been breached he had spent the next couple of days sleeping almost around the clock with the AD guarding his rest.

Even when he emerged, tousled and heavy-eyed, he seemed utterly self-contained, interacting little with his fellow prisoners apart from Skinner. Apparently content to do nothing, he spent his days reading, watching TV, and on the phone to Peter. It was in stark contrast to Mulder how thought he was going to go crazy in his confinement.

Mulder tried to ignore the silence and the steady look and opened the refrigerator, finding half a cold pizza. Taking it out and tearing off a piece, he ate it standing up.

Krycek grimaced, "I don't know how you can eat that garbage," he said.

Mulder grinned, "Don't knock it 'till you've tried it."

"No thank you," Krycek said, drinking down some more beer. "I prefer non-edible x-files. Besides, with those guys you never know what's on it."

"Well at least here you don't have to push through Scully's medical specimen and risk small-pox just because you want a soda," Mulder countered.

There was a small silence, and then suddenly, Mulder couldn't stand it any longer. "Fuck, Alex, how can you do this? He's almost twenty years older than you are."

"Eighteen to be exact," Krycek said calmly, not fazed by the sudden change in conversation. "And no, I'm definitely not looking for a father figure," a strange expression slid across green eyes, "trust me on this."

"Okay, fine, so you're not looking for a father figure, but hell, Alex, what do you see in him?"

"He wants me," was the simple answer.

Mulder bit his lip, "There are other people who want you," he pointed out, not stating the obvious that he was one of them.

Krycek shook his head, "Not like Walter does," he said softly. "He knows where I'm coming from, Mulder, he knows what I've done, and he still wants me. And not for this," he gestured at his face, the jade-green eyes, the tilted cheekbones, the firm sensuous mouth. "He wants me for me."

There was an awed quality to the soft words that cut the man listening like a knife.

A sudden wry smile lit Krycek's eyes, "And not that you're interested or anything, but yes, the sex is great," he gave Mulder a knowing, amused look.

Mulder shook his head, "I'm sorry, I just can't imagine AD Walter Skinner going crazy in bed, and not to belabor a point or anything, but he's middle-aged, Alex."

Krycek raised an eyebrow, "So?" He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, obviously hesitating, but then he said, "Let me put it this way. I've had the young perfect bodies and any variation of the sexual act you can imagine, plus a few you probably can't. I can't remember how many men I've fucked, who've fucked me. And if I learned one thing it's that desire doesn't depend on the physical perfection of a body, the flatness of a stomach or the width of shoulders."

His voice was very dry, "Call it Krycek's addendum to 'it's not looks but personality that matter.' What Walter and I do in bed is beyond great, beyond anything I've ever experienced because it's Walter."

Krycek paused and then said calmly, "It's none of your damned business, but actually he's got one hell of a body, and trust me, he knows how to use it," a sudden lazy sensuous heavy-lidded smile.

Mulder had sworn that he wouldn't do it, that he wouldn't beg, that he would accept what Alex had done, but he heard his own voice saying, "What about us, Alex? Why couldn't you give us a chance?"

Krycek sighed, "Mulder, be honest with yourself. What has there ever been between us apart from lies, secrets, hatred and sex?" He shook his head to forestall the words, "no, really think, Mulder. What did we have except for sex? Sex and enough emotional baggage to sink the Titanic."

He paused, "Can you see us waking up in the morning, reading the newspaper? Watching a football game and arguing about the rules? Going for a Sunday afternoon walk? Coming home after a day's work? Hell, even," he added derisively "go out for dinner together?"

A crooked smile, a slight shrug, "Maybe the man I was would have been satisfied with what you're offering, wouldn't have wanted anything but a few nocturnal fucks now and then. But the man I've become in the past two years, the man I want to be," he shook his head, "he values himself more than that."

There was no regret, no hesitation in the cool voice.

He had forgotten the hard purpose that was an integral part of Krycek's personality, the ability to simply discard whatever was unnecessary for survival; be it emotions or people.

Mulder knew in that moment that what he most wanted would never be his.

Alex would never love him.

And with that knowledge came not only pain but also anger and hatred. He had hated Krycek once and he knew he could very easily do so again.

When he spoke next there was nothing of the confusion and pleading that had been present in his voice only moments earlier.

His voice icy, Mulder said. "All right, fine, you don't love me, you'll never love me. But then I want something else."

Krycek stilled at the change in tone. "What do you mean?" he asked suddenly looking extremely wary.

The cold detached part of Mulder's mind was glad to see the hint of uncertainty and doubt in emerald eyes.

"I want you."

Krycek stared at him and then he actually laughed. "Mulder, haven't we already had this discussion?" Suddenly he relaxed. "You're the one who told me to go, remember?"

Mulder didn't smile. "I know what I said," he crossed his arms feeling suddenly in control, after too long of helplessly floundering. His voice remained dispassionate and level. "I was angry." A slight shrug, "I changed my mind."

Krycek shook his head. "No way, Mulder," he said abruptly.

Mulder smiled, lips peeled back and teeth showing. "Yes you will. The reason you're free from Spender, Peter's only chance of removing the chip. It's because of me. If you refuse I'll make sure Scully doesn't finish her research."

"She wouldn't do that," but for a moment fear shaded the husky voice.

Mulder smiled coldly. "She won't like it, but she'll do it... for me."

Krycek's hand fisted. "Why, Mulder?"

"Because you owe me."

The stark words hung in the air.

"Whatever I owed you I paid," Krycek finally said, evenly.

Mulder raised an eyebrow, hazel eyes gone cold as ice. "Really? You're free, you've got Peter back, what exactly have I got in return?"

"Fuck, Mulder, we're not kids in a sandbox," Krycek returned. Yet his response lacked the force of anger.

"That's right. We're not kids and I risked everything for you, Alex. I denied my father for you. If Spender is really pissed not only my mother but Scully is in danger, and all you can say is, 'sorry, Mulder, have a nice life, bye, bye?'" He shook his head, "oh no, I want more than that."

"I'm not a fucking toy you can discard and then suddenly decide you want again," Krycek spat with the first signs of anger.

Mulder laughed bitterly. "No, you're not, you're a master manipulator. Are you going to deny that you've used me to get what you want?"

They glared at each other and it was Krycek who looked away first. "What do you want me to say?" he asked wearily. "Yes, that's the bargain we made, fucking for your help."

Mulder said coolly. "And now I'm collecting my debt."

Krycek bit his lip. "Is that really what you want, Mulder? Sex as payment?"

"No," Mulder said evenly. "What I want is you. You're the one who made it into a business deal." He smiled without humor. "See, that's the true irony. I want you enough that I'll take any terms offered. At this point I really don't give a fuck whether you hate me or not as long as I've got you back in my bed."

###

Coming into the bedroom from the bathroom, Skinner found Krycek perched on the bed, knees pulled up. It was a favorite position, and it made Skinner smile, thinking that one day he must tell Krycek it made him look like a kid, "Deep thoughts, Alex?" He sat down on the bed beside his lover.

Krycek nodded, "I talked to Mulder today," a wry smile, "or rather he talked to me." He rose abruptly and went over to the window.

Skinner just stopped himself from rolling his eyes. He had seen Mulder's frustration rise in the last couple of days. "What did he want?"

Evenly Krycek repeated Mulder's threat and his demands.

"He wants what?!" Skinner exploded. He had seldom been angrier.

Krycek didn't turn around, "You heard me," he said distantly, looking out the window.

"No." Skinner said curtly. "Fuck Mulder."

The tall straight figure swung around and ironic amusement curled a corner of his mouth. "Well, that's the point, isn't it?"

Skinner stared at him. Once again Krycek had withdrawn, and there was nothing but aloof detachment in the bottle-green opaque eyes. Skinner knew he had to tread carefully and so he restrained his first impulse, which was to go punch some sense into Fox Mulder. "Is this what you want?" he finally asked, his voice as cool and even as Krycek's.

For a moment some indefinable emotion flickered across the still face, and then Krycek shrugged. "Does it matter?"

Once again Skinner was silenced. "Yes," he said calmly. "Yes it matters, Alex."

Krycek turned away again. "I don't know," he admitted after a long silence.

"Do you love him?" Skinner asked in a deceptively casual voice.

A bitter, startled laugh was the answer. "Hell no!" Krycek's mouth twisted. "I'm many things but a masochist is not one of them. No, I don't love Mulder, most of the time I don't even like him. But—" abruptly he stopped and shrugged.

"You want him." It wasn't a question.

Again there was that too casual shrug. "Yeah, I guess I do. I wanted him for many years, Walter. I think a part of me wanted him even before I met him."

"Because of his father."

Once again it wasn't a question but Krycek chose to answer it as one. "Yeah, because of Bill Mulder. He used to talk about his son, about Fox all the time. How smart the boy was, how quick, how he played Little League Baseball... the fact that he skipped two grades in high school..." Krycek sighed, running his hand through thick dark-brown disheveled hair. "We go back a long time, Walter, longer than Mulder knows." He let his hand fall to his side. "Look, I'm not saying I understand it myself, but if that's how he wants to be repaid, then I'll do it."

"I see..." Skinner said flatly, not giving away anything. "So it doesn't really matter what I think."

A brief hesitation, "It matters, but it's not going to change my mind." Krycek met his eyes. "I don't know what we've got here, Walter. But I do know what it isn't. It's nothing like what's between Mulder and I."

Skinner arched an eyebrow. "Is that good or bad?"

Krycek actually laughed softly, "Oh, good, definitely good." He hesitated and then said quietly, "I don't know what I feel about you, but it's not like anything I've ever felt before, okay?" It was as far as he would go.

It would be so easy to do what he wanted, Skinner thought. To react with instinct and emotion. To haul Mulder off and punch him in the gut. But while momentarily satisfying, he was also sure that it wouldn't be worth its price.

All three of them knew that Mulder's threat was pretty empty, but it wasn't the threat that was the point. It was Krycek's reaction to Mulder's blatant emotional blackmail.

It surprised Skinner that Alex Krycek could so easily fall for Mulder's manipulation. Yet studying the younger man, his lover, he suddenly thought that perhaps it wasn't so strange after all. Facing your demons is never easy and even for a man as hard and circumspect as Krycek it was inevitable that he would be shaken by it. Then too... for a man with so few morals, Alex had a surprising code of honor, albeit an unconventional one.

"Yeah, it's okay," Skinner said quietly. He waited until Krycek was looking at him, and then he continued, "Alex, let's get some things straight. I can go to Mulder, tell him to get his hands off my property," he ignored the sudden stillness of the man by the window. "And he may or may not back off. I can order him," a crooked smile, "not that he's ever obeyed orders before. I can give you an ultimatum, either tell Mulder to screw himself or we're through." Again he paused, watching the emotions cross the finely-drawn face. "But I'm not going to. Frankly I find domination games childish and boring, and the truth is that you can't have a relationship unless it's built on equality and trust between adults. I don't own you, I have no interest in owning you."

Krycek looked out through the window body still and tense. "I don't get you, Walter," he said quietly.

Skinner moved up behind him, a large hand slowly beginning to massage a rigid neck. Krycek breathed out but remained still beneath the soothing touch.

"I know, and that's what I'm counting on," Skinner said in his deep bass. With a small secret flash of amusement he thought that it was rather like hooking a salmon. A steady pull, then roll the line out followed by a sudden tug.

And like a salmon, Alex fought instinctively. But whether he knew it or not he was caught and Skinner wasn't about to let him go.

Very slowly, Skinner bent his head, lips replacing his fingers. He could feel Alex's deep shudder as the younger man's eyes slid closed and he leaned back, head falling on a broad shoulder. Still slowly, Skinner let his hands rediscover familiar territory, sliding up beneath the T-shirt and stroke lightly across taut muscles and satin soft skin before they moved to the zipper, stilling for a moment as they traced the contours of the button and zipper.

Breathing picking up, Krycek pressed himself against Skinner, rubbing against the hardness he felt against his ass.

With agonizing slowness Skinner slipped the button free and one hand on Krycek's hip, stilling the instinctive movement, the fingers of his other hand, pulled the zip down, tooth by tooth...

Krycek's breathing was very loud in the silence of the room a deep quiver running the length of his body as Skinner lightly bit his ear, and murmured, "For what it's worth, I know why you're doing it."

In answer, Krycek shuddered, but there was a strange fear in his husky voice when he muttered, "I don't know what the hell you want with a fucked-up guy like me."

Fingertips stroking lightly across pale flanks, making Krycek jerk in response even as a large warm hand freed his cock, stroking down the hard length, Skinner laughed, "I must be the masochist."

Krycek turned abruptly looking up at Skinner, the wariness in his eyes in stark contrast to the sensual yield of his body. "I mean it, Walter. Why are you doing this?"

Skinner gazed back, his face showing only calm interest. "Why do you think, Alex?"

A long silence, and then Krycek moaned faintly, his hips moving in response to Skinner's continued stroking, and the broad thumb smoothing the crown of his cock, "I don't know, and that's what's bugging me." He closed his eyes, another moan forcing itself through his clenched teeth at the sensation of Skinner's fingers closing around his balls, rolling them in his hand.

Stepping out of the pool of denim at his feet and kicking his jeans away, Krycek spread his legs; hips raised as his ass begged to be fucked. But once again Skinner managed to surprise him. Instead of accepting the open invitation, he wrapped his arms around Krycek fingertips flirting lightly with silky skin and whispered into his ear, "No, this time I want you to be inside me..."

Krycek swung around, eyes brilliant with surprise to find dark eyes laughing at him. "You want me to what?!"

Somehow he had never imagined that Skinner would let anyone fuck him. But the mere thought of burying himself in the brawny body set his blood afire in a way he would once have thought impossible after all the countless meaningless sex he'd had.

Skinner framed Krycek's face between two large hands. "I told you once before, I don't play power-games in bed, Alex." He kissed the firm lips coaxing them apart before taking a ripe lower lip between his teeth and chewing gently.

Shuddering in response, Krycek felt himself tugged towards their bed, and still kissing they sank down on it together...

###

mj.lee@chello.se

Divine Retribution IV


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